


The Short of it: Tribbles and double drabbles

by Grey_wonderer



Category: Lord of the Rings (2001 2002 2003)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-12-31
Updated: 2012-09-07
Packaged: 2017-10-14 06:27:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 4,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/146355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grey_wonderer/pseuds/Grey_wonderer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a collection of tribbles (300 word ficlets) with the occasional double drabble (200 word ficlets) tossed into the mix, that I've written featuring various LOTR characters, mostly hobbits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Biscuit Jar

Title: "The Biscuit Jar"  
Author: Grey_wonderer  
Pairing: None  
Rating: Very 'G'

Characters: Frodo and Merry

The frustration was plain in the determined set of his jaw. He was pulling with all of his strength, which was considerable for a four-year-old. He glared at the oval-shaped biscuit jar and pulled harder.

 

Frodo grinned. The child was sitting in the middle of the kitchen table with the biscuit jar between his knees and one hand inside the jar. The other hand was pushing against the jar.

 

“What are you doing?” Frodo asked trying not to laugh.

 

“The bic-cuts are stuck!” Merry said not looking up from his efforts.

 

“They must be very big biscuits if they are stuck,” Frodo said walking over to the table. He leaned over Merry’s shoulder. “What sort of biscuits are they?”

 

“My favourite,” Merry said tugging to free his hand.

 

Now, Frodo did laugh. “All biscuits are your favourite biscuits, Merry.”

 

“But these ones are my most favourite,” Merry objected. “They won’t come out!” He looked at Frodo.

 

“Let go of the biscuits,” Frodo instructed.

 

“But I want them,” Merry frowned.

 

“Trust me, Merry,” Frodo smiled. “If you want them, let go of them.”

 

“But then they will still be in there!” Merry argued.

 

“Try it,” Frodo said. “If it doesn’t work, you can always try it your way again.”

 

Merry looked uncertain but after a minute he reluctantly released the biscuits and pulled a crumb-covered hand out of the jar.

 

Frodo reached over, put his hand into the jar, pulled out a biscuit, and handed it to Merry.

 

Merry looked accusingly at the biscuit and then at Frodo. “How did you do that?”

 

“One biscuit at a time, Merry. They will not all fit through the opening of the jar at once.”

 

“We need a new jar with a more bigger top!” Merry said before stuffing the biscuit into his mouth.

 

GW 09/14/2008


	2. Dinner, The Main Course

Dinner

 

G-rated   
Characters: Diamond, Pippin, Faramir Took, and Merry  
Main Course

She sent him to the barn to deal with his son. She said, “Explain it to him. You grew up on a farm. You know that the animals are not pets.” He’d meant to do it too. He’d walked into the barn full of purpose and knowing that his wife was correct. All animals were not pets. Hobbits, more than most folks, had to eat.

 

He knelt down and looked into the trusting eyes of his six-year-old lad who was clutching the animal in question in his arms. His intention had been to say, “I’m sorry, Faramir. When Uncle Merry gave us this duck, he intended for us to fatten it up and have it for dinner.”

 

His intentions were interrupted when Faramir said, “Papa, you won’t let mum cook Mr. Quackers, will you? He’s a good duck. He’s going to be a mum. He laid an egg!” The child squeezed the duck so tightly that it gave a small quack and struggled slightly.

 

“If Mr. Quackers has laid an egg, then he’s a Miss and not a Mister,” Pippin said and had watched in amusement as his child had tried to sort this out.

 

“If Mr. Quackers is going to be a mum, we can’t eat her!” Faramir wailed. “You wouldn’t let anyone eat my mum would you?”

 

That evening, they sat down to a table laden with potatoes, carrots, bread, cheese, mushrooms and cabbage but no roast duck. Merry teased him. “No main course? Couldn’t kill the duck, could you, Pip?”

 

“It’s worse than that,” Diamond interrupted an amused glint in her eyes. “After dinner, Pippin has to explain to Faramir why lads can’t have babies.”

 

Merry laughed.

 

Pippin scowled miserably. “ It's your fault, Meriadoc. You just had to give us that duck, didn’t you?”

 

GW 08/31/2008


	3. An Unlikely Friendship

Title:Title: "An Unlikely Friendship"  
Rating: G  
Characters: Farmer Maggot and Tom Bombadil  
The cold wind parted the tree branches. He could see the figure tramping along in bright yellow boots. A song could be heard above the wind.

Smiling, he watched his friend approach. Tom would be here directly. You couldn’t rush Tom. He did as he pleased, when he pleased. There was no sense expecting Tom to behave like other folks. No, sir! Tom was unique. He’d learned long ago that his friendship with Tom was of Tom’s choosing. He took great pride in that.

Through the years, this unlikely alliance had served Farmer Maggot well. He had no idea what benefit it afforded Tom. There must be a reason Tom continued to visit, but he didn‘t know what it was.

No one knew of this friendship, not even his wife. He hadn’t meant to keep the funny man in the blue coat a secret, it just didn’t seem wise to speak of him.

Being with Tom, gave Maggot pause. Tom was outside the rules. Things that applied to everyone else held no power over Tom. That realization made Maggot want to turn and run, but each time the notion occurred, it passed as quickly as it came.

“Ho, there, Maggot!” Tom called, a brilliant smile on his face.

“Evenin’, to you, Tom Bombadil.”

“There’s much to tell,” Tom said in that sing-song way of his. “I’ve important tidings. Trouble’s about.” He tapped one booted foot. “Things are in motion that don’t bode well for your little Shire but I think one of your number will set it right.”

Maggot wasn’t certain what Tom was telling him but he knew it was important. Even if he left this place feeling that he’d not learned anything, a time would come when this conversation would pop into his head and he would understand.

 

GW 02-24-2009


	4. Opinions

Title: "Opinions  
Author: Grey_wonderer  
Pairing: None  
Characters: Sam and Hamfast Gamgee and Lobelia Sackville_Baggins  
Rating: G

 

 

She walked quickly past them clutching her coin purse as if she thought they might snatch it. She had a sour look on her face. Sam Gamgee barely had time to think that he’d be glad to see the back of her, when he heard his Father say, “Good mornin’, Mistress. Fine day for a stroll, ain’t it?”

 

Sam watched in stunned silence. Lobelia Sackville-Baggins’s steps faltered. She reluctantly turned and said, “I’ve no time to stroll. I’ve business with that worthless relative of mine at Bag End!”

 

Hamfast Gamgee bowed slightly. “Then I’ll not keep you, Mistress. I’ll just wish you a fine day.”

 

She scowled and stalked away. It was like watching a storm cloud move out of the way of the sun. Once she was gone, Sam felt much cheerier. He looked over at his Father. “Why were you nice to her? Mr. Bilbo says she’s a right awful pain in the neck. He don’t like her. I ain’t never heard no one say nothin’ nice about her.”

 

“You watch that you don’t get your opinions from others, Samwise,” Hamfast warned. “You’ve a mind of your own. You may not be as sharp as some folks, but you got enough goin’ on in your head to have your own ideas. You don’t need Mr. Bilbo or anyone else tellin’ you what’s what.”

 

“So you like her?”

 

“That ain’t the point,” Hamfast said. “I have my ideas. Mr. Bilbo’s got his. It’s up to you what you think of her.”

 

The lad shrugged. “I don’t like her.”

 

“Fine, as long as you’re polite about it. It’s your own opinion you should be givin’,” Hamfast said. “Folks’ll tell you their opinions, but you gotta trust your own, Sammy. Never let no one make up your mind for you.”

 

GW 09/18/2008


	5. A Mother Just Knows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This little tribble was written by request from linwesingollo. She want a tribble using the word, rhubarb and so here it is. This is 'G' rated. How about that?  
> The characters are Saradoc Brandybuck and Farmer Maggot and an OC

A MOTHER KNOWS' for linwesingollo because, she asked for it!

 

Saradoc found it difficult to determine the sex of the child standing in the doorway dripping mud onto the floor. The hair was coated in sun-dried mud, its colour indiscernible. Muddy water dripped down grime-covered cheeks leaving thin streaks of nearly clean, flushed, skin behind. With filthy clothing clinging to a skinny body like paint to wood, and foot hair encrusted with earth, the child looked deplorable.

“You’ve been in with the pigs again, Lass,” Maggot groaned.

Her lip protruded. “Might have.”

“And how many times must I tell you to stay outta that pen? You’re going to get hurt one day, to say nothing of how angry your mum will be if she sees you lookin’ like that.”

“S’just mud.”

“Any left in the pen for the hogs or are you wearin’ it all?”

She shrugged and poked a muddy finger up one nostril.

“Go out to the rain barrel, Barb. I’ll come out directly and rinse you off.”

She left a trail of muddy footprints as she went, still working to removing something from her nose with one dirty finger.

“Barb? That’s an unusually name, Maggot” Saradoc observed. “How old is she and how did she get that name?”

 

“ Fits her once you get to know her and see her cleaned up. She’s five now and can be sweet or tart dependin’ on her mood. She’s got a mouth on her that’s near poison but she’s good hearted. She’ll make a fine farmer’s wife cause she never shies away from hard work.” Maggot grinned. “ She’s my youngest. When she was born her hair stood out in all directions. The rest of her was bright, beet red and thin as a rail. My missus took one look at her and named her Rhubarb. I call her Barb.”

 

GW 02-19-2009


	6. The Dreamcatcher

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was inspired by a photo linwesingollo posted. I have put a link to the photo here. I saved it in my scrapbook on LJ rather than link to linwesingollo's LJ without her permission.
> 
> http://pics.livejournal.com/grey_wonderer/pic/0001ypa6/s640x480
> 
> Her request was that someone write a drabble for the photo but I couldn't hold this to a drabble so I went with a tribble which is how it came to be posted here. It's called "THE DREAM-CATCHER" and it's rated G so no warnings.

THE DREAM-CATCHER

 

The frame had been a gift years ago from the very person whose face smiled back at him from within its enclosure. His mementos of the life he’d left behind were few. This framed drawing was one of those rare treasures that he’d allowed himself to bring to Tol Eressea.

“I carved it with some help from Daddy Two-Foot. He’s a fine one with carving, you know?”

Frodo could still hear his voice as clear as a bell. So much time had passed but nothing could dim the memory of that voice; the voice that had kept him going when it seemed that nothing could. It was that voice and the look in those eyes that had helped him reach that dreadful place. Even long after his body was weary beyond measure, the sound of that reassuring voice had enabled him to continue.

“It’s a simple frame but I thought you might put one ‘o them drawings Mr. Bilbo done ‘o Bag End in it, if you’ve a mind to. Or maybe a drawing of your own. You‘ve a talent and no mistake. Frames need to be filled with someone or somethin special. That‘s what my old Gaffer always says.”

Frodo had taken that advice. He’d put someone special within the cherished frame. His drawing failed to capture the warmth of those well-loved eyes but at least the smile right. Sam’s frame was a dream-catcher, protecting his heart’s desire.

Frodo ran a finger over the delicate carvings around the edge and sighed. “There you are, Sam Gamgee. Safe within my memories and within this frame until I see you again.”

No, Frodo’s drawing didn’t do Sam justice, but it kindled a spark in his mind and let him remember. The best likeness of his dear Sam was in his heart.

The End

GW 05/05/2009


	7. Weather Woes: 2 parts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually two tripples but I am posting them as one chapter since they go together. They feature Pearl, Merry, Sam and Pippin.

Title:Title: "Weather Woes" (two tribbles)  
Rating: both G  
Characters: tribble #1- Pearl, Merry and Pippin  
tribble #2- Merry, Sam and Pippin

Tribble #1

 

“What happened to you?” Pearl demanded glaring at her younger brother.

“Nothing,” the eight-year-old said looking confused. “I’m fine.”

“Fine? You’re drenched! You’re getting mud all over the freshly mopped floor, Peregrin Took!” Pearl objected.

The child studied his muddy feet and watched as a fat water droplet slid down his pointed nose landing on his big toe and washing away one spot of mud. Peregrin wiggled the toe and then shook his damp curls slinging water about the room like a wet dog after a bath.

“Pippin!” Pearl shouted.

Behind her, seated at the table, his mouth full of milk, Merry tried not to laugh and failed, sending milk out his nostrils and onto the table.

Pippin grinned and said, “The water from my hair makes my feet cleaner. See?” He held up one muddy foot, now speckled with clean spots.

Merry laughed and Pearl glared at him before turning her attention back to Pippin. “You’re supposed to come inside the minute it begins to rain. Look at you! You’re soaked!”

“I did come in the minute it rained but I was up a tree behind the barn. It’s a long way, Pearl,” the muddy child objected. “I hurried but the smial is too far from that tree.”

“You aren’t supposed to be behind the barn,” Pearl frowned.

“I didn’t know it would rain,” Pippin objected.

“You aren’t supposed to be behind the barn even if it doesn’t rain,” Peal reminded him.

“Oh. I forgot.”

“Go outside. I’ll wash you off. Take your muddy clothing off too,” Pearl instructed.

“All of it?”

“Except your small clothes,” Pearl amended.

“But Pearl, I can’t go out there,” Pippin objected.

“Why not?”

“It’s raining. I’m not suppose to be in the rain!”

Merry fell from his chair laughing while Pearl groaned.

 

*******************************************

Tribble #2

 

Merry sighed, looked around the large, crowded room, then studied his pocket watch. The Thain was late. Not a very promising start.

Two sour-faced hobbits in the front row were whispering and looking disgusted. One hobbit a few rows back was snoring. Thirty minutes. Not a record, but still not good. A few minutes wouldn’t matter much if this weren’t the first meeting since the new Thain had taken office.

Sam glanced at Merry and raised one eyebrow quizzically. Merry shrugged at the Mayor, and the centre chair remained empty for another ten minutes.

“I like these meetings about as much as I like stale biscuits, but I like sitting here while my bum goes numb even less than the dull ramblings about sheep, fencing and egg prices,” someone grunted.

“The new Thain must be off on another Quest,” someone quipped. This remark was rewarded by laughter as the big doors at the far end of the hall creaked open.

Distant claps of thunder and the sound rain filled the room as the Thain entered dripping wet and spattered with mud.

Over the laughter, someone shouted, “Afternoon, Thain. How’s the weather?” Peregrin Took sloshed toward the front leaving generous puddles in his wake, while smiling resignedly at his tormentors.

Merry and Sam, both hiding grins, stood, along with everyone else and waited for Thain Peregrin to be seated. Glancing behind himself at the rear of his trousers, Peregrin announced, “Everyone please be seated. Because the Thain’s chair is upholstered in green velvet and the Thain’s backside is covered in mud and bruises due to a fall from a pony, I’ll conduct this meeting standing.”

Amid applause and laughter, Merry and Sam sighed, exchanging relieved grins. Thain Pippin, the unflappable, had arrived. The Shire was in good, if slightly muddy, hands.

 

GW 06/15/2009


	8. Three untitled double drabbles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't remember why I wrote these and to this point they have no titles, but here there are. These three are double drabbles and the first two are related. The third one is just something extra. These are all conversations between Merry and Pippin.

“It’s a splendid arrangement. Don’t you think so, Merry? I really think it will solve everything, don’t you agree? You do agree, don’t you, Merry?” Pippin’s voice was at once anxious and hopeful, a very difficult mixture but very like Pippin.

Merry wasn’t completely certain that he was expected to respond. Perhaps a nod of his head or a reassuring smile was all that was needed. The difficulty here was that for some reason, even though he wanted to believe that the presence of Sam and his new bride in Frodo’s home would be enough, Merry still had a tiny knot of uncertainty churning in the pit of his stomach. Even a simple little nod of agreement would be less than the truth.

"Frodo relies upon Sam. Having Sam and Rose right there will keep Frodo from being alone. Sam will make certain that Frodo eats. It really is exactly what Frodo needs isn’t it?” Pippin pressed. There was no denying that he was looking for a response.

Merry positioned a smile on his face, clapped a hand on Pippin’s shoulder and managed a nod. When he considered it, Merry saw no reason for both of them to lose hope.

 

***************************

 

 

"When did you know?” Pippin asked looking as dejected as Merry felt.

“I don’t know exactly,” Merry hedged stirring his tea.

“Yes, you do. You always know exactly. When was it, Merry?”

“It was after the burials. When the battle was over and folks were talking about a memorial to our dead I knew then,” Merry sighed. “There was a look in his eyes or perhaps there was just something missing in them. Whatever it was, that was when it came to me that he was never going to be the same.”

“You never said,” Pippin frowned.

“If I had said, what would you have done differently?” Merry asked genuinely curious.

Pippin considered this for several minutes and then said, “I would have tried to convince you otherwise. I would have tried my best to cheer you.”

“And then?”

Pippin stared into his half empty teacup and shrugged. “I would have done the same things that I did when I didn’t know that it was hopeless. There wasn’t anything more we might have done, was there?” He looked desperately at Merry searching his cousin’s face to see if they might have missed something.

“No,” Merry said with finality. “There wasn’t.”

 

***************************************************

 

The child was all sharp angles from the knees right up to the pointed nose. A stream of endless questions poured from the child’s bow-shaped mouth like water escaping a leaky bucket. The bright, green eyes sparkled. As Merry replied to the millionth question, the little one shifted from foot to foot dancing in rhythm to Merry’s words. The imp was a tiny package of constant motion with a crown of auburn curls. Small hands held fast to Merry’s trousers to keep him from getting away. Little did the child realize all that was needed for this was the gaze from those mischievous eyes. Merry was held spell-bound. Then someone called the child’s name. The enchantment broke. The little one ran off calling cheerful farewells to Merry.

“I’ve no idea who she looks like,” Pippin sighed. “Faramir has an original there. She’s a charmer but like no Took I’ve ever known. Must be the Gamgee in her.”

When Merry turned to object, Pippin broke into a deep laugh, the sort that could be felt right down to one’s toes. “Then again, maybe there’s a wee bit of Took in her,” Pippin conceded.

“A wee bit of Pippin Took!” Merry grinned.

 

GW 07/06/2008

 

Tags: lotr, lotr fic


	9. For Halloween, no real title

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This, is the very first drabble of any kind that I have EVER written. EVER! True, I had to make it a double drabble in order to get the point across, but that's about 2,000 words less than I usually need to make a point. Don't expect too much. It's the first of it's kind. I guess Halloween really does bring out strange things. This is Merry and Pippin in their much younger years.

“What’d did you get, Merry?”

“Ginger bread. You?”

“Sugar biscuit. That old hobbit laughed at me!”

“It’s your costume.”

“Mum made it! What’s wrong with it?”

*Giggles* “You look like a fairy princess.”

“I don’t! I’m s’posed to be Gandalf!”

“Your staff sparkles!”

“That’s so it looks like it has light in it.”

“That’s a dress you’re wearing.”

“It’s my Wizard robe!’

“It has lace at the collar.”

“We didn’t have time to take that off. It used to be Pearl’s night gown.”

“Your hat’s too big or your head’s too little.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my head!”

“Why is there lace around the hat?”

“That’s my long, white hair!”

“Gandalf’s hair is grey.”

“Mum says white looks better. We didn’t have grey lace.”

“Where’s your beard then?”

“Got candy apple stuck in it. Left it at home.”

“And why is your travel cloak pink?”

“It’s lavender!”

“Why?”

“We didn’t have grey material.” Looks embarrassed. “Does it look pink?”

“It is pink! Knock on the door so we can get more treats, Pip.”

Knock, knock!

“Oh, dear! It’s a scary pirate lad and a fairy princess!”

Merry giggles. Pippin scowls.

“Mum said the cloak would look purple in the dark.”

 

GW 10/27/2007


	10. No Title

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This isn't a drabble, double drabble or a tribble but it is rather short and since it doesn't really fit anywhere else, here it is. It's rather serious for me.

He stood there, breathless, rain dripping from his hair while tears ran down his face mixing with the rain in much the same way that a tiny stream joins with a river and becomes lost in its vast expanse. He gazed out into the grey light of the dawn and waited. He waited for someone to come and take the pain away. There was a dull ache in his heart that would not allow him to rest. No amount of drink or song had been able to lift it from him. His pain clung to him and enveloped him as if he were wrapped in a thick wool blanket. He felt as if he might smother.

 

Just beyond the trees lightening flashed so bright that it hurt his eyes. He squinted as the thunder cracked above him with a force that seemed to shake the ground beneath his feet. He felt the mud from the damp earth pushing its way up between his toes. He did not know how long he had been standing there. He didn’t really care. Nothing seemed to matter. He could hear his own ragged breath, feel his wet clothes pressing against him, hear the rain beating against the leaves of the trees, feel the thunder rumbling in the distance, and somewhere a voice was calling his name. Someone was running hard along the path between this place and the place from which he had come. They were getting closer. He could hear his name over and over and over. The voice grew ever more insistent and sharp with fear. He wanted to answer if only to make the voice stop but he had no strength for such a thing. Besides, what would he say?

 

He was falling again and he didn’t want to take anyone else with him into that cold, dark place. He didn’t want her reaching out and getting trapped inside with him. She was his light, his hope, and his reason for continuing. He needed to know that she was safe. That she was removed from the evil that touched his heart. She was to him as the phial had been to Frodo; she was his light in dark places when all other lights failed him.

 

Strong arms wrapped themselves about him and held on tight. A few strands of cold, wet, blond hair clung to his cheek as she stood up on her toes and willed him to look at her. She pulled his face toward hers with strong, thin fingers and kissed his lips with a force that surprised him. She kissed him with a passion that burned warmth back into his soul and forced air into his lungs. He put his trembling arms about her small frame and held her while she pulled him back into the light. He repeated her name over and over and over again, ‘Rose, Rose, Rose,’ until he was unable to tell where she began and where he left off.

 

They fell to their knees in the mud, clinging to one another like frightened children in a dark room. He buried his face against her shoulder and allowed her to be strong for both of them. The moment that he gave himself up to her, a part of him came back to the Shire. Most of him came back to the Shire on that grey morning to be with her but a small piece of his heart that still dwelled in the land of Mordor breathing in the black smoke as the heat seared his lungs, that tiny piece of him remained lost for a time. Even she could not call it back to her so easily.

 

Sometimes the wounds don’t heal. Sometimes they find a dark corner in your mind where they can take root and grow. There are dark gardens too and in them the weeds are strong and thick and covered with thorns. A tiny seed of fear planted itself in Sam’s mind but Rose Cotton refused to allow it to grow. For a time she managed kept the fear away, to keep it from growing and preying on his mind, until finally she managed to kill that fear by giving Sam a child.

GW 05/24/2007


	11. Seek and You Shall Find

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam makes a discovery and follows some old advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This drabble was written for the B2ME 2012, Bingo Card Challenge:
> 
> N-33 Four Words drabble: Those words are: Gang, remarkable, blackberry, nicely

N-33 Four Words drabble  
Gang, remarkable, blackberry, nicely

 

Sam had nearly given up, when his efforts had been rewarded. There, almost hidden from view, and ripe for picking, was a blackberry bush! It was late in the season. The large, juicy, berries should have been withered, yet, remarkable as it seemed, they weren‘t. Sam filled his hat with a whole gang of them. He started to pick the bush clean, but thought better of it. 

‘Mustn’t be greedy,’ He could hear his Gaffer saying. 

Other travellers might come this way needing food. What he had now, would do nicely for supper. He’d leave some for the next fellow.

 

GW 03-10-2012


	12. The Cradle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frodo is amazed yet again, by his dear friend, Samwise Gamgee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for the four words drabble Bingo Card Challenge for B2MEM 2012.
> 
> N-43 Four word drabble  
> Words used are cradle, mantle, smith, and consonance

“A Smith?” Sam had looked shocked when Frodo suggested that. Now, as Sam proudly displayed his work, Frodo understood. When asked why he hadn’t built a traditional wooden cradle, Sam explained. “This’ll stay sturdy, no matter how many little ones Rosie and me have. We want a large family.” Sam was the perfect hobbit to don the mantle of fatherhood. The cradle was carefully built by Sam himself. It spoke to his desire to bestow love and protection upon his children. There had always been a consonance to Sam’s capacity for love. The little Gamgees would be very lucky children!

 

GW 03-02-2012


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faramir thinks about Eowyn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This drabble was written for the B2MEM Challenge using Bingo Cards. 
> 
> O-64 four words drabble,   
> The words to use are: Infidelity, new, mesmerize, classify

This was new. He’d never known such desire. Her voice and her touch, made him feel alive again. She was graceful, strong and intelligent. She didn’t notice that he was captivated by her. Her ability to mesmerize, appeared to be an unconscious talent. 

He’d spent his life in service to Gondor, trying to please his Father, and follow his brother. His grief at their passing, was still too fresh for mere words.

He felt something hard to classify. Guilt, perhaps, for wanting her in the shadow of war. It seemed like an infidelity, but he wanted her all the same. 

 

GW

03-24-2012


	14. News of the Ent Wives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A message arrives with news for Treebeard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for the   
> B2MeM Challenge: I-22 Four Word Drabbles Bingo Card, Words used: Small, Cascade, Dogwood, Order

“Where have you come from?” Treebeard boomed.

The small tree before him, shook as if a great wind were blowing its branches.

“From the forest near the Shire. There, I have flowered ten times.”

“Why are you here?” Treebeard asked.

“I bring news of the Entwives. We heard you were seeking them.”

Treebeard looked skeptical. He leaned down closer.

The dogwood looked up, watching the moss cascade forward from the top-most branches of the old Ent. He cleared his throat and began. “I shall not be hasty. I shall tell the tale in proper order.”

“A good beginning,” Treebeard smiled.

GW

03-04-2012


End file.
